Somebody said that people who create their own drama deserve their own karma. True enough in my case. I was vain enough to type my own name into that Google search thing. THIS is the image that popped up. It’s of the British film icon Michael Caine. I can sorta, kinda see the resemblance, but come on, Google, he’s 83. Six feet two inches tall. He’s starred in over a hundred movies and is known for his working class cockney accent.
I can’t act, but I can do accents. I have a penchant for accents. (Stop laughing, all you people who don’t value my talent for accents…my family, my friends, Marie Shelton in particular.)
But seriously, Google, what led you to confuse me with Michael Caine?
I bet it was my children. They’re often confused about me. Like last Halloween one of my costumes was of a deranged brain surgeon. I bought the wig and wore the lab coat smeared with brain matter.
As I descended the stairs, my son yelled, “Look everybody, Mom’s Paula Deen!”
In an attempt to solve the Google mystery, I did a reverse search. I typed in Michael Caine’s name to see if my picture popped up. Nope. Just a zillion pictures of the fine actor.
Anyway, I forgive you, Google. I had no business searching your engine. It’s just that I’m super insecure because I started this blog out of desperation. My literary agent told me I had to if I ever wanted to sell another book. Now I’m having fun meeting people from all across the globe, discovering what we have in common.
That’s it, Google! I know how you confused me with Michael Caine—Michael and I have something in common. You inputted his net worth…75 million dollars. And of course my name shot out because those numbers register with my bank account too. Only not the million part.
Turns out, some mysteries are better left unsolved.